Trigger Finger times two!

To My Dearest Darling Daughters,

I am writing to you to discuss a little incident that occurred at the conclusion of last night's long-overdue Family Dinner.

Now, perhaps you were still stinging a bit because I outsmarted you the night before - leaving you home alone with virtually no last-minute chance to throw a party. . .

Perhaps you were outraged that your father took your car for an oil change and didn't have the decency to fill the gas tank while he was at it. . .

Or perhaps you were just angry that I (the most annoying person ever!) made you attend church services for the first time in over a month. . .

Whatever the reasons for your discontent, my dears, you cannot deny that I lovingly prepared Jen's Sausage and Pasta toss (including a meatless version for you, Ponzi, my vegetarian daughter) along with a delicate baby romaine, spinach, and arugula salad and a yummy loaf of French bread. And (once we set you straight on your lack of manners in starting to wolf down your food before your parents even sat down at the table) you cannot deny that a fair amount of acceptable dinner table conversation passed between the four of us. . . or the fact that, for practically the first time in his life, your father didn't treat a dinner conversation like his own personal version of The Inquisition - viewing it as his only opportunity to ask you questions about your love life . . . or career ambitions. . . or test grades. . .

Yes, in retrospect, I would have to say that the dinner itself was quite charming.

But then it came time to do the dishes.

At which point the magical spell was broken when you took it upon yourselves to squabble over the washing and drying of the pots and pans (What's with this noses thing anyway??? What - on earth - would make you think that just because you pointed your finger on the tip of your nose before your sister did, that you would automatically be excused from washing the pots and pans????)

And why, Ponzi, did you take such great offense at my simple request that you nest the frying pans after drying? And were you really so broken-up that you needed to declare, See this is why I hate having dinner with you!!!! ????

And you, Trigger. Did you really need to immediately pour yourself a bowl of Cheerios and pipe in, Yeah, I like eating cereal for dinner better, anyway!!!!????

You think that you have a Trigger Finger???? Well I have a Trigger Finger too, my dear daughters, and it has nothing to do with placing a pointer finger on the tip of my nose!!!!

With all hopes for your successful rehabilitation, I am. . .

p.s. Did I tell you, I'm totally with you on the gas thing??? What kind of moron changes the oil but doesn't fill the gas tank????

How to determine if you, too, are a Mom on Spin

Now some of you may be thinking. . . Hey, my world is spinning a little fast around me, too. Perhaps I can call myself a Mom on Spin! So I thought it might just be helpful to you to list a few of the qualifying symptoms so that you can self-diagnose your condition.

You, my friend, are a card-carrying Mom on Spin if. . .

• Your children consider twizzlers a serving of fruit.
• You mix up your daughters' middle names on official documents.
• Every tampon box in the house is empty.
• You purposely withhold your daughter's acceptance to the pricier college, hoping the cheap one will come through.
• You prefer your dog's company to your own family's.
• You call the wrong child in sick from school and she gets an unexpected day off.
• Your wallet is empty.
• The deodorant is missing from your bathroom closet.
• 28 pairs of flip-flops reside near your front door.
• Your family of 32 bath towels are somehow MIA.
• At least one family car still sports the remnants of an unfriendly encounter with another driver.
• You can't - for the life of you - remember which one of your daughters needs you to make an appointment with the therapist.
• A certain Grey Goose never headed south for the winter.

So there you have it - the Lucky 13!
If you recognize yourself in more than eight of these scenarios, I'm sorry to be the one to break the terrible news to you that have now, in fact, joined the ranks of . . . .

p.s. Welcome to my world!